


If we weren't such good friends, I think I'd hate you

by castles



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castles/pseuds/castles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach goes to London to see  Jon Groff. Chris's timing seems designed to fuck with Zach's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If we weren't such good friends, I think I'd hate you

**Author's Note:**

> Two companion ficlets written in Dec/2010 and Feb/2011.

-1-

 

Zach really missed Jon. Not knowing exactly at what stage things were between them when Jonathan left was beginning to worry him, digging at the back of his already very tired head persistently.

So with his trip to London he accomplished two things: seeing Jon, which made him realize right away he was kidding himself when he thought that he "missed" him, when in reality Zach was more like starving for him. Secondly, no matter at what stage things were before, they were much closer now. Which wasn't an entirely unplanned development on Zach's part.

Zach couldn't stay for long, but every minute they did have was perfect. Jon was perfect, and so talented. Just the sense of contentment mixed in with moments of pure exhilaration was worth sacrificing a year of really needed sleep, let alone a few hours.

He went back to New York pretty confident he could run on steam and that feeling for the rest of the year.

 

*

 

Because Chris had uncanny timing, he called four hours after Zach had landed.

"Hey, what's up with Joe? I've bee trying to talk to him all day, can't reach him."

Anyone hearing this would assume by the matter-of-fact way Chris jumped straight to the point that Chris and Zach still talked to each other on a daily basis, when truth was they had been lousy at keeping in touch recently.

Once, way back when his infatuation with Chris was at its peak and they were together all the time, picking up effortlessly from whatever thread of conversation they had going on before they'd parted ways in the previous day, Zach had jokingly predicted (to himself, to Noah) that Kelly Clarkson's _Addicted_ would end up being the anthem of their relationship. And then he almost snorted into his slushie. He seriously couldn't remember ever being this lame and embarrassing at any point in his life. He blamed the sorry state of his eyebrows. If he weren't so hung up on how ridiculous they looked, he'd go out more and fuck all of this - whatever this was - out of his system. Or so he told himself.

But in retrospect, he wasn't that far off mark with his song pick. It reflected the overdramatic, puerile nature of their sexual tension well.

It wasn't a high-school type of crush blown out of proportion per se. It was more like the idealization of one, which was worse. None of the straight guys Zach crushed on in high-school looked like Chris. Or were as touchy-feely as Chris. Or sat with Zach to watch old movies all night, hanging on to every word Zach would say. Or sent Zach packages with books and pictures all the way from fucking Bosnia.

But more importantly - and this, Zach knew, was the crux of the matter, the main reason behind this crush's baffling longevity - Zach had never pressed his forehead against one of his straight high-school crushes' and kissed them at the end of a party they had organized together. Had never sucked on their tongue and tasted everything they had to drink that night. And he most certainly had never hummed around their cock and felt their hips trash. Or their fingers cup the back of his head, tangle in his hair. Or felt their thumb pressing on his jaw while they apologized profusely for the lack of warning.

Zach thinks the image of Chris looking down at him, face flushed red and glistening lips, has been tattooed on his brain.

So after a brief explanation about Joe switching phones, Zach sits on his couch, asks about the sort of things he knows will make Chris go on an rambling spree, and then just soaks it in. Because Zach knows from experience that denying himself the indulgence would only make him more tired.

 

*

 

It was February and he was at Patrick's veranda, smoking. He'd received a text from Kurtzman about the script for the second Trek movie being finished. Kinda. Almost. Maybe. Or maybe not, they jad to talk to JJ. But between thinking about all the arrangements he'd have to make before shooting started, Zach kept going back to trying to visualize Jon's reaction to the shaved eyebrows.

He was snapped out of it by a beaming Chris waving his hands right in front of him. See? Uncanny timing.

Zach was so cold and startled he barely felt the hug, he'd had just enough time to maneuver his cigarette hand.

"Ok, I'm not going to ask what was on your mind, because judging from the face you were making, you wouldn't tell me."

Whatever his handlers were doing to make him more of a Hollywood heartthrob was working. Zach thought Chris looked a little more handsome than he remembered, if a bit skinny.

"To be honest, I was just thinking about how Kelly Clarkson should stop singing about my feelings."

Chris chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Oh god,  do I even want to know?"

"You do not, man. You seriously do not," Zach grinned and made a move to throw his cigarette away, but Chris caught him by the elbow and took it from Zach's hand.

"Patrick didn't tell you I was coming because he didn't know, ok? I didn't, either," Chris started fumbling with his coat, looking for something in his pockets. He found it and gave it to Zach. "It's cold now, but you'll love it, trust me."

Zach opened the brown package to see a half eaten burrito. He raised his head just in time to catch Chris exhaling smoke, face flushed red from the cold wind. Lips dry. Until a tongue snaked out to lick them.

Zach had no other choice but laugh. "Christopher Pine, you're a life ruiner. Did you know that? You ruin lives."

 

-2-

 

Chris's new place is nice. It only looks half-inhabited and a lot of the furniture isn't up to par with the fanciness of the space, but it's a statement on the career upgrade its now owner just went through.

Zach's inspecting the contents of the fridge (Chris makes up for his disinterest in interior decor with a discerning palate) when he hears the crash and a loud "Shit, _motherfucker_!" There's broken green glass everywhere.

"Wow. Are you ok there, buddy?"

"Yeah, yeah. The bottles were empty, it's cool." Chris isn't looking at the mess on the floor, though, he's looking at his right hand, flexing his fingers slowly and making pained faces. "Boxing," he offers, when he notices Zach's watching him.

They cleaned it up together, Chris dispensing a broom and sweeping the pieces into a tidy mound with his feet and Zach scooping it with a magazine.

"Have you considered getting a hobby that doesn't, you know, compromise your physical integrity?" Zach's back to the refrigerator, getting them new bottles of beer and pastries. He then goes in search of a plastic cup for Chris.

"Well, yeah, maybe I should try yoga." The smirk is obvious, even if Zach can't see it since Chris has his back to him, running cold water over his sore hands.

"Indeed. You have my encouragement. I do yoga and you know what I don't have to worry about? Breaking stunt-men's noses and having kid-safe utensils around. Seriously, where are the plastic cups?"

"Oh, come on, I don't need a plastic cup, it was an isolated spasm. Hand me that towel, please?"

Zach picks up the towel, but doesn't hand it over, he makes a move for Chris' right wrist instead and starts drying his knuckles gently. Then grabs one of the cold beer bottles and presses it against them, which elicits a low moan from Chris.

They stay like this for a while, slipping into an easy silence, as theirs tend to be. And then something snaps, furious, in Zach's mind - _'Hey, remember when we made out and then I blew you and you giggled every time I made a slurping noise and then you came in my mouth and we never talked about it?'_ \- because why? Why must he, too, make things easy for Chris? Chris has everything easy already. There's no one in his life making it _hard_.

It only lasts a fraction of a second and Zach keeps it in check, very thankful when Chris breaks the moment remembering there's such a thing as an ice pack.

Later, when they're both saying their farewells, Chris messes with his hair and whispers 'heeeere coooomes the bowlcut' in a silly voice and then hugs Zach so tight Zach can't breathe.

 

*

 

He has Jon hard on all fours that night for no other reason than convenience. They were spooning, things escalated quickly.

When it's over, Jon squirms playfully trying to get Zach off him, but Zach doesn't yield, pressing down more and entwining their arms, trapping Jon further. He dotes on Jon's neck, nuzzling his hair, then sucking slowly on a earlobe.

"Oh, god. Zach, move! You have to throw away the condom!"

Zach ignores him, nibbling on his neck some more. "I love you."

It's an understatement. He's head over heels. But when he reaches for Jon's hand and brushes his lips against the knuckles, a part of him is very disappointed the skin is smooth and unblemished. 


End file.
